


Attended by Roses

by aisydays



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Sick Fic, very mild discussion of illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 14:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16620758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisydays/pseuds/aisydays
Summary: In which Rilla is poorly, Arum is terrified, and Damien is somehow the only rational adult here





	Attended by Roses

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a birthday present for the amazing Elliot (aka faunlord)! Fun fact, my computer made me save two copies, so the working title for this was, at one point, 2birthday2faunlord
> 
> (title from Sylvia Plath's Fever 103 because I can't resist a literary pun)

If there was one thing that Amaryllis of Exile, healer of those the Citadel turned aside, and greatest thing to happen to the field of medicine hated more than anything else in the world, it was falling ill. If someone were to ask her what her least favourite things in life were, her answer would consist of Arum hogging the blankets on cold nights, the general bigotry that plagued the Second Citadel, and being sick. It felt almost like a personal failing, or some ironic joke played by the Saints – not of course that Rilla exactly believed in the saints, but that was a different matter altogether. Some higher power was apparently bored and decided the best way to punish an herbalist was to curse her with her arch-nemesis: the flu.

In hindsight Rilla really should have seen it coming. The fatigue that had seemed to plague her for the past few nights may not have solely been down to over working, and the stuffiness in her nose and throat could no longer be explained away as allergic reactions to the new plants Arum had been bringing over to her cottage. She had spent so long identifying these symptoms in other patients (and convincing Damien that his were not a sign of anything sinister no matter what his mind was telling him) and yet when it came to her own health, Rilla was almost embarrassed to admit how oblivious she could be.

Hence why she had woken up this morning feeling like death warmed up.

There was one saving grace, namely the large scaly body she was pressed tightly up against. She had fallen asleep with Arum after a long night of experiments and now her limbs were entangled with the lizard’s many arms and legs. For once in her life, Rilla thanked whoever was up there for her cold-blooded lover as she pressed her feverish forehead up against Arum’s chest, sighing slightly at the relief it brought.

Unfortunately, her sigh was enough to wake Arum. He blinked slowly as he came to consciousness, clearly registering the heat of the body pressed against him. The dawning realisation on his face would have been comical, had Rilla enough energy to feel any emotion other than Ill.

“Amaryllis?” Arum rasped, flicking out his tongue to scent the air around her. Rilla’s only response was a grunt as she snuggled closer, her pounding headache making rational responses fairly impossible. This did not help. Arum pulled back, concern clear even on his scaly face. “Amaryllis what’s wrong?”

“S’just flu” Rilla slurred, pulling blankets over her. When did it get so cold in their room? The Keep never let it get this cold, Arum would complain non-stop the moment it got even slightly chilly outside. Must be the fever, causing her to shiver like this, grasp for any heat she could find while simultaneously feeling like her face was hot enough to boil a kettle. Although, she’d never had temperature swings like this before…

“I need… recorder…” she mumbled, pulling herself to her feet and immediately swaying as her vision danced with lights. Arum appeared at her side in a second, two arms wrapped around her and guiding her back to the bed, a third hand stroking though her hair.

“No, you do not” he said, words trailing off into a rattle, betraying his worry. “You need to lie down, and…” a moment’s pause, followed by “well, you need to rest… probably”

Rilla blinked up at him, clumsily reaching a hand up to pat as his frill. “But… I need to record my symptoms… for science!” Why didn’t Arum understand that a good scientist had to record their findings! For reasons! Science reasons! Science reasons she really couldn’t think of right now, not when her head was throbbing and her limbs were aching and she just wanted to sink into soft sheets and… and…

The last conscious thought Rilla had was that Arum’s eyes really were _incredibly_ violet. Like… lavender fields when the light shone through. She’d have to tell Damien that one. Maybe when she wasn’t feeling so sleepy…

~~~~~~

Lord Arum, who rules the Swamp of Titan’s Blooms and tends to its Keep, was most definitely not scared. Sure, his love had just woken him up with skin that almost burnt to touch, and had collapsed into unconsciousness as soon as she attempted to stand but it was fine. He had the situation under control. Amaryllis would wake up, and be fine, and the whole encounter would be nothing more than an amusing story to tell Damien when he returned from patrol.

This line of thinking lasted all of five minutes.

Arum paced the room he and his partners used as a bedchamber, flicking his claws over each other and whipping his tail from side to side with such force that it knocked a pile of paper tumbling to the floor. His mind was racing, trying desperately to remember anything he’d overheard when Amaryllis was tending to her patients. Humans were so… delicate sometimes, and as much as he loved to scoff at their frailty, at times like these it was painfully obvious.

On the bed, Amaryllis stirred, pushing back the blankets covering her. Immediately Arum rushed to her, laying a scaly hand over her forehead just as he had seen her do so many times for Damien. She batted him away almost indignantly, but not before he felt how scorching the skin there was.

“Amaryllis, my flower, you’re burning” This seemed to provoke some kind of reaction from Rilla – her nose scrunched up and her brow furrowed the way it did when she was stuck on a particularly difficult problem. Usually Arum found this incredibly endearing. Now was not one of those times.

“Burning skin… shivering… head… hurt” his lover mumbled, as if she was running through a list in her head. Although her recorder was nowhere to be seen, Arum himself took note of her words. Maybe this would be the key to healing her! He’d seen his herbalist help so many humans before – Damien alone seemed to come home with a different malady or injury every two weeks, even if most of them turned out to be figments of his overactive imagination. She always noted down their symptoms, methodical and calm. Arum could argue about organisation and the futility of order in the face of the chaotic and unfathomable universe all he wanted, but even he could admit Amaryllis’ methods worked. Sometimes. Occasionally. When all else had failed, of course.

“What… else do you feel?” Arum asked, settling down on the bed beside the collapsed healer. As he spoke, he found himself reaching over to stroke a claw gently against Amaryllis’ forehead. Obviously this was just to clear the hair that had matted to her sweat-slick skin. If his hand lingered there while he waited for any clues on how to help, well, he was just providing a cooling presence. That was all.

Amaryllis slurred through a few more symptoms, although as the list continued it seemed to become more nonsensical, even including at one point the complaint that her throat was “stuffed with cotton and pins”. Arum patiently took note of each one, committing them to memory the same way he did when he studied the newest developments in his experiments, or the freckles across Damien’s cheeks.

It was strange that mere months ago he had been scoffing at the scientist’s need to categorise everything, her endless questions about the Keep and its illness, and yet here he was doing exactly the same. Humans did that kind of thing, he had come to realise that over the years. They wormed inside your head when you least expect it, with their flowery words, and blunt determination. Maybe Damien had been correct in that first duel, when he stared in to Arum’s eyes and claimed to find humanity within them. There was certainly something human in him now. How else would he explain this new kind of worry, that pushed him not just to cure but to find out why, to list symptoms and diagnoses and all sorts of other terms Amaryllis clearly invented to confuse him.

When Rilla’s mumbling gave way yet again to gentle snoring, Arum resumed his pacing. The Keep sang to him as he stalked up and down, soothing notes and high hums designed to calm his mind, provide focus. It wasn’t working. All he could think about was Amaryllis’ rising temperature, her hoarse voice, and the fact that he still didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t one of his creations, he couldn’t just order her to be well. And he doubted that this was a problem like the Keep’s, that could be solved with sprays of solution and sleep.

Arum was completely out of his depth. The Keep’s notes rang out in the quiet of the bedroom, but it took him several seconds to register what it was trying to tell him.

Damien was nearly home.

~~~~~

Sir Damien the Pious, knight of the Second Citadel, was just about ready to explode. As much as he enjoyed the company of Sir Angelo, there were limits to how much time Damien could spend with his greatest rival. As it turned out, said limit was roughly four days into a five day patrol. Although he tried to hide it from Angelo, the tightness in his chest had been building on their journey back to the Citadel, the overwhelming urge to curl up under some blankets with his loves rising like a wave on the horizon

Even Angelo had noticed the way the other knight’s knuckles were white on the reins of his horse, or the way he had bitten his lips ragged, but his attempts at distractions mostly fell flat. Damien’s mind was focussed on one thing: home.

It was a little strange how quickly the Keep had become like a home to him, in a way the knights’ barracks never truly had. His heart yearned for the quiet buzz of Arum’s creations, or the humming notes of the Keep in conversation with its creation. After splitting ways with Angelo (who had been sworn to secrecy about the nature of Damien’s… frequent leaves and waved his friend off with many unsubtle winks), he rode towards the edge of the Swamp of Titan’s Blooms. As he approached, he loosed an arrow towards a bright red flower that would notify the Keep of his arrival. Sure enough, the air in front of him rippled and twisted, and the binding around Damien’s chest loosened as he caught sight of Arum, his lizard love, standing in what appeared to be the chamber the three of them shared.

One look at the expression on Arum’s chest was enough to undo Damien’s newfound ease.

Although it was usually impossible to read anything from the lizard’s face, there was no mistaking the unbridled panic in Arum’s eyes. It was an emotion Damien was intimately familiar with, although seeing it in another person, in someone he cared about so much that it often felt like his heart would burst from the feeling, this was new. He didn’t like it.

“Arum? What’s wrong” Damien fought to keep the tremble from his voice; he had to keep calm, he couldn’t let anyone know he was panicking, tranquillity,   _tranquillity, St Damien, your tranquillity…_

For a few awful seconds there was nothing but stillness and silence. Nothing moved, no one spoke, just Arum and Damien staring into each-other’s eyes, seeing their fear reflected back at them.

The moment was broken by a small cough from the direction of the bed. Arum’s head snapped round and that, that small sound and sharp movement, told Damien all he needed to know. His blood ran icy in his veins as that small voice at the back of his mind, the one he’d been ignoring for so long now, began whispering about all the things that could go wrong out in this swamp. All those strange monstrous plants and insects and weren’t there mutterings in that village he and Angelo stayed the night in weeks ago whilst hunting those bandits, of some kind of pox spreading among the residents, and what if he had brought something home…

There was no time for that. Damien closed his eyes, relaxed his shoulders, and breathed. One long, deep, slightly shaky breath. This was no time for panic, or spiralling thoughts, or any other nonsense. Despite all that had happened, he was a knight of the Citadel and it was his sworn and unbreakable duty to protect the people.  

St Damien’s tranquillity settled over him, like the calm in the eye of a storm, like the moment before a battle when everything clicks into place and all that remains is duty.

“Arum, listen to me” His voice was surprisingly firm, with an air of command that made even Arum stand up straight and pay attention. “Rilla is going to be fine. We are going to help her. Now, I shall fetch some water, and search through Rilla’s herbs, and you tell me everything you know about her illness.”

Arum stood for a second, blinking, with an indecipherable look on his face. Although Damien had trouble with reading most every expression, be they monster or human, the look on Arum’s face was particularly intriguing. The ebbing panic on his face seemed to be meeting a kind of admiration mixed with… something Damien wasn’t entirely sure he could identify.

He brushed aside the thoughts and busied himself, emptying what was left in his waterskin into a cup Arum pressed into his hand, as the lizard rattled off a list of Rilla’s symptoms. Thankfully, what had seemed terrifying and alien to a monster was familiar to a human – a common cold that had hit a little harder than usual. Privately, Damien suspected the severity of Rilla’s illness could probably be explained by the dark circles he could see under her eyes, even from a distance, but that wasn’t important now.

He made his way over to where his love lay sprawled across the bed, eyes heavy and half closed. She sat up weakly, accepting the drink between coughs and sniffles, as Damien ran his fingers soothingly through her hair. Arum slowly inched closer, expression neutral but hands fidgeting and betraying his nerves. Eventually, he came to sit on the bed with them, joining Damien in comforting the woman they both adored.

Later, there would be work to do. Tinctures to make up, while Arum grumbles about the limitations of human medicine, and Rilla would complain about the limitations of bedrest. But for now the three of them just sat, quiet and calm, silence broken by only by the noises of the Keep and Rilla’s coughs.


End file.
